


The Boy Who Lived

by The_Selective_Participater



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Feels, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Protective Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 00:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4120311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Selective_Participater/pseuds/The_Selective_Participater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's better to leave things buried.<br/>or<br/>The time the team tried to help and discovered something that they wish they hadn't</p><p>( Notice how my summary blows. I'm sorry.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love these people I swear.  
> I show it with pain, lots of pain.  
> When I wrote this I was thinking gen, but who am I to stifle your imaginations.  
> I own nothing.

He gets the feeling the first time they meet.

“This is Steve, also known as Captain America.” Agent Coulson gestures at him.

“Please, just Steve.”

Something flashes across the billionaire’s face, so quick that Steve wonders if he just imagined it. In the next second Tony flashes one of his what he now calls ‘paparazzi smiles’. A dazzling display of teeth that usually fools whom or whoever its aimed at to believe that Tony was fine, never better. Steve returns the smile with a restrained one of his own and offers a hand to shake. Tony stares at his outstretched palm for a moment before making an excuse about important schematics to look over before making a hasty retreat. He turns to Coulson, who is staring at the doorway with a darkened expression.

“Agent Coulson? Did I do something wrong?”

Coulson sees his troubled expression and his tense posture relaxes minutely.

“No. It’s… nothing to be concerned about. Mr. Stark is a busy man is all.”

Steve is not convinced. Because just for a moment Tony seemed…afraid, of him.

 

………………………………….

 

After the battle of New York and The Avengers move into the newly branded Avengers Tower the feeling grows.

It takes some time but Tony begins to become comfortable with the team and vice versa.

But not with him.

Tony still remains coolly distant, never outright rude, overly polite even. A word that one doesn’t usually associate with the genius, which is exactly why he picked up on it. He tries engaging the man in conversation but after a few words Tony always finds an excuse to cut their chats short. More than once he walks in on the billionaire laughing with one or more of the team only to close up when made aware of his presence. This upsets him more than anything. He likes Tony, genuinely likes him. Yes the nicknames he gives Steve often confuse him and he doesn’t always understand the engineer’s jokes and references but regardless of the outside persona he created for the world Tony was one of the kindest, most considerate people he’s ever known. The genius has expanded the field of people that he felt he could put his walls down around and it troubles Steve to think that he isn’t one of those precious few. It bothers him. It bothers him a lot.

 

……………………………

 

It takes him a while to realize that Tony is actually _avoiding_ him.

He’s in the kitchen at five a.m. after a quick jog fixing a cup of coffee. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Tony walk into the kitchen space and freeze when he realizes that the person occupying it is Steve. Steve pretends not to notice him but watches as Tony quietly turns and retreats. It’s like a punch in the gut; suddenly he’s not all in the mood for coffee, for anything really.  
What did he do? It seemed like they cleared the air after what he said on the hellicarrier.

_I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. I've seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you._

Thinking about it still makes him cringe. He wishes he can take it back but wishes are worthless, he sees that now. All he can do is try to make up for it but how can he do that when the man can’t even stand to be in the same room as him. He wants to scream, punch something. He pours the coffee into the sink drain instead, watching the dark liquid swirl down the drain. He would have to try harder.

He needed to try harder.

 

……………………………………….

 

Tony Stark is an interesting man.

It’s not the first time Bruce thinks this and it certainly isn’t the last. Tony was also fearless. How else would you describe someone who comes face to face with an enormous rage monster and reaches out to boop it on the nose.

He’s watched the clip several times now and the incredibility of it never diminishes. Who else but Tony would then laugh at the confused expression on said rage monster’s face. Luckily for Tony, and everyone else, the Hulk was not in a smashing mood and promptly sat amongst the rubble and giggled. The Hulk _giggled_.  
Ok. He could admit that he along with the team did gush over the…adorable sound.

It was Tony’s lack of fear towards him that led to their very close friendship. Tony was the only one who genuinely wasn’t afraid of him. Yes the others were much more comfortable around him than most people, but even they kept a safe distance when he felt a little green around the edges. Tony on the other hand treated the situation with an offhand nonchalance that he found enduring. Enduring but troublesome.

The footage only proved something that he’d been worrying about for a while. Tony had no sense of self preservation. It wasn’t that Tony didn’t care. It was more that he seemed resigned to getting hurt. Whereas the team would immediately seek medical treatment when necessary, Tony would insist that he was fine, always fine.

More than once the genius has been found patching up his own injuries, injuries that the team would not have known about if they didn’t catch him in the act. And that was what scared him. Having a huge green rage monster that kept you safe from harm also came with a certain level of fearlessness but the thought that one day Tony would keep quiet about the wrong injury and might end up _dead_ set his heart beating that much faster.

And if anyone noticed the way he would watch his friend closely after each mission for a grimace, a limp or even stiff movement, they didn’t mention it.

Someone had to look after him and Bruce would gladly be that someone.

 

………………………………….

 

Tony’s fiddling with some gadget at the kitchen table, engrossed and unaware like usual when his focus is concentrated on one thing.

Clint is debating whether or not to throw one of the m&ms he’s currently eating at Tony’s head when he notices it. Right at the edge of his hairline a scar, a few shades lighter than the surrounding skin and oddly enough closely resembling a small lightening bolt.

He clears his throat and Tony looks up for a brief moment before returning to whatever it is that he’s making/fixing/repairing.

“What’s up Legolas? Need something?” Tony asks without looking up.

“Nope”, he replies popping the ‘P’, “Boy who lived.” Grabbing a chair he sits across from the distracted man who curses underneath his breath before looking up.

“What?”

“You know, Harry Potter? The boy who lived?”

Tony stares at him as if he’s lost his mind.

“Come on dude, we had a Harry Potter marathon like three weeks ago.”

“Still lost here, Clint.”

“Harry had the thing on his forehead; it looks just like your scar.”

The moment the words are out of his mouth Tony goes completely still, his fingers frozen over the device in his hands. After a beat he continues his fiddling but his shoulders are tense and his face is carefully blank.

Suddenly Steve is there frowning in the way he always does when he’s concerned about something. _And shit who would have thought Captain America was a freaking ninja._ Without asking he reaches out, maybe to touch the scar, maybe to get Tony’s attention but either way Tony’s reaction has them both frozen to the spot. Tony’s chair screeches loudly from his sudden and violent movement. He flinches away from Steve dropping the device when he jumps up, a hand outstretched as if to defend his self, to keep Steve away.

The silence that follows is deafening, no one dares to move, and all eyes are on Tony whose eyes haven’t left Steve.

“Tones?” Clint dares break the silence. The sound of his voice seems to snap Tony out of it, whatever it is. Tony slowly lowers his arm and without a word picks the device up from where it skittered across the floor and looks somewhere above Steve’s right shoulder.

“Sorry. I- sorry.” Tony makes a hasty retreat and leaves the two men staring after him.

“That…was something.” Clint murmurs glancing at Steve, whose expression is a delicate balance between concern, guilt, and shock.

“We have to fix this.” Steve looks at him his expression replaced with one of pure determination.

“We have to fix this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I should point out that Clint tells Natasha everything. That is all.

A full week passes after the incident before Clint and Steve decide to approach Phil. Whatever this is, whatever caused Tony’s episode is not something they can find out on their own. They needed info and it was Coulson’s job to know everything there was to know about his team.  
Phil’s sitting behind his desk in the hellicarrier when the two men approach. One look at their determined expression and he can tell that this isn’t a casual visit. When Clint closes the door behind him he knows that whatever they are here to discuss is very likely to be something that he’d have to be very careful about.

“Care for a seat?” He gestures towards two chairs and isn’t surprised when they decline his offer. Instead they choose to stand, Rogers directly across from him and Barton closer to the door.

“Phil, we need to talk.”

“We’re talking now.”

“About Tony.” Steve watches Phil’s face closely for any reaction, a tell, but his face remains carefully neutral.

“What about Stark?”

Clint speaks from his place by his place by the door. “We need access to his files.” Barton’s words are matter-of-fact and to the point. Steve frowns but says nothing watching it play out.

“Why? Ms. Romanoff has read Mr. Stark’s file and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind sharing that information with you.”

“Yeah but here’s the thing”, Clint responds moving closer to stand beside Steve, “We have talked to her, she and I both know that what she’s read is just the cursory report. What we need is the one _you_ have access to. And don’t bother denying it cause we know that you know what we’re talking about.”

Phil is silent for a moment before returning his attention to the papers on his desk. “I am sorry but the only files that are available are the ones Ms. Romanoff has read. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some business to attend to.” He starts to stand but Steve moves to block his retreat.

“Please, Phil we need to know what’s in there. Please.” Clint looks at Steve’s earnest expression and the dangerous glint in Clint’s eye before shaking his head.

“I’m really sorry…just please leave it alone.” He walks past the two men ignoring their disappointed expressions and out the door.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care it was that he _did_ care. He cared enough to know that digging into the genius’s past would only dredge up things that took years to bury and should remain buried. Sure Barton and Rogers were only concerned about their teammate but Phil knew this was a can of worms better left unopened. He hated keeping his team in the dark but it was the only way Phil could protect Tony and he fully intended to make sure that the man was never hurt by anyone ever again. Even his own team.

…………………………….

 

Natasha isn’t surprised when Clint and Steve tell her about their failed visit with Phil. S.H.E.I.L.D. wasn’t exactly known for transparency and she didn’t expect Phil to give anything away.

“This is so _frustrating_.” Clint groans from his sprawled position on a recliner.

“Do you think Phil just…might not trust us?” Steve says sitting on the arm of the same recliner.

“Nah, that’s not it.” Clint reassures. “He probably doesn’t want us meddling.”

“You know for a guy who’s had his life out for the world to see since he could walk; it’s surprisingly hard to get information _about_ him. If only we could ask Tony to hack into S.H.E.I.L.D.’s files, we know how much he likes doing that. But he _is_ a genius; he’d figure it out immediately.” Steve muses to himself.

Natasha suddenly turns to look at Steve and Clint notices and sits up.

“What is it Tash?”

Maybe it could work. The assassin usually chose to keep out of other people’s affairs but Tony’s withdrawal over the week was bothering everyone on the team including her. She’s never thought that she would see the day that she would meet another person besides Clint who didn’t see her as just The Black Widow or an assassin but she found that in Tony.  
Tony somehow managed to wiggle his way into the small group of people she trusted. He also wasn’t afraid of her. The man would risk amputation to reach out and squeeze her shoulder reassuringly or poke her in the side if she ignored him. And if doing this would help him, she would be willing to take the risk and would bet the rest of the team would be willing to take the risk as well.

“We’re dying of suspense over here Nat.”

She snapped out of her thoughts and met the hopeful eyes of her friends.

“We need to talk to Bruce.”

 

……………………………….

 

Bruce is sitting in his lab hunched over a microscope when the team approaches him. He looks up at their grim expressions and is immediately filled with dread.

“What’s going on? Where’s Tony? Did something happen? Is he ok-“

“Tony’s fine. Well not really.” Clint assures, patting the flustered scientist on the shoulder. It does nothing to calm his nerves and he turns to Steve and Natasha for answers.

“This is about Tony.” Steve answers.

“We need your help.” Natasha adds.

Natasha goes on to explain what it is that they need his help with and he sits quietly listening to his teammates explain precisely why they need him to hack into the S.H.E.I.L.D. database and get access to Tony’s files.

“I’m a Nuclear Physicist.” He answers quietly.

“So you can’t hack into S.H.E.I.L.D.?” Clint can’t help the disappointment that crosses over his expression. Bruce was literally their only hope, the only one they could trust.

‘I didn’t say that.”

“So will you help us, help Tony?” Steve asks eyes boring into his own.

“Yes.” Bruce answered with out hesitation. There was really no point in asking. He would do anything to help Tony and if this was what was needed he would do it no questions asked. He just hoped that this actually worked. That they would find something, anything to help them understand how to help the genius.

The thought that might not get _their_ Tony back was…well he rather not think about it.

 

……………………………….

 

Steve wishes, wishes to God that he can turn back time and forget the look that Tony gave him the first time they met because now he understands it and it makes him want to scream, to punch something until his knuckles are broken and bleeding.

Tony, self less, kind-hearted, always willing to listen, their Tony…

And Howard fucking Stark. That bastard. The worthless scum. How could someone he thought so highly of, looked up to, and often defended to _Tony_ \- God the things he said to Tony about Howard.

He looks up to where Clint is sitting, face buried against Natasha stomach his trembling arms wound tightly around her waist. He can’t tell if he’s crying or not, the only sound coming from Natasha who is quietly stroking his short hair and murmuring soothing words that he can’t make out. Every now and then she’d reach up and wipe at the tears steadily streaming down her face.

They both turn when Bruce’s breathe hitches and he abruptly stands. His skin has taken a dangerously green tinge and the arm rests that he was holding in a death grip splinter underneath his hands.

“I- I’m going…” Bruce’s voice drops a couple octaves. “Hulk room.” He rushes out of the room before he completely loses control.

Steve just wishes he couldn’t feel.

 

………………………………..

 

The team didn’t know what they expected but it wasn’t this. Not this.

It doesn’t take long for Bruce to find the file and takes even less time for him to gain access to the encrypted subsection. The team gathers around the scientist as he opens the files. Bruce scrolls through for a few seconds before his heart is seized in an icy vise.

No.

Not Tony.

But the proof is right there for them to see.

 

_Severe and repeated trauma during youth has had enduring effects upon both neurobiological and psychological development altering stress responsivity and altering adult behaviour patterns …_

_… may experience conflictual relationships and chaotic lifestyles, difficulties forming adult intimate attachments and display behaviours that threaten and disrupt close relationships_

He can’t help but think of Pepper, of the break-up. Of how long it took to get Tony to finally trust them to not turn around and stab him in the back.

_…Behavioural health effects include suicidal behaviour, substance abuse, poor self-esteem, post-traumatic stress…_

Every diagnosis is like a punch in the gut and the urge to stop reading, to pretend that it’s someone else, anyone else is overwhelming. But it’s like a car wreck that they just can’t look away from.

The medical reports are down right sickening. And they come with pictures.

Fucking pictures.

Bruises, welts, burns, cuts, scars, _broken bones_. In one report, Tony is absent from school for two weeks, time enough for the dark bruises on his neck, bruises in the shape of hands, Howard’s hands, to heal. Another report suggests Tony had a bottle smashed against his head. The cut is jagged, nearly hidden amongst his hairline. Clint’s breathing became erratic and Natasha gently led him away.

All of these incidents are hidden, treated by private doctors paid under the table to keep their mouths shut. Bruises hidden where they can’t be seen. Howard did have a reputation to uphold.

The rest of the reports are the same. Sickening. Something no child should have gone through. But a child did have to go through this. _Tony_ had to go through this. What he notices is that there are no records that Tony ever got any help for what he’s been through. No therapy no counseling, nothing. He just can’t wrap his head around it, doesn’t want to. But one thing he did know was that Tony would never suffer alone again.

Never again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Child abuse, Suicidal thoughts

 

Tony rushes down the steps taking them two at a time. Today is his ninth birthday. He’d been waiting for this day for weeks. His dad was supposed to be attending to some business overseas for a whole week, _a whole week_. His mom was going to bake him a cake and everything, and then they were going to watch movies together all night.

But it’s all ruined when he hears his father’s voice, loud and booming, coming from the kitchen, and nearly undecipherable his mother’s soft voice. His heartbeat skyrockets when his father’s tone changes to the predatory growl that makes the hair on his neck stand on end. He skids into the kitchen right in time to see the cake his mother has spent hours carefully icing and decorating knocked to the ground. His father is screaming but he only catches a few words.

_Stop coddling the boy._

_No more of this bullshit._

_You’re the reason he’s so **weak.**_

**_Pathetic._ **

 

And just like that his father is calm. His mask of perfect family man smoothly slides into place but Tony is not fooled. He’s made the mistake once of believing it but never again. Never.  
His father leaves then and his mother continues to stare at the ruined cake on the ground. Tony squats down and starts scooping up the mess with his bare hands. He looks up into his mom’s eyes and manages a passable smile. She gives a shaky one in return before drifting off to wherever she goes when she disappears in her own head.

His dad was sober at the moment, angry but sober. His mom made an effort to be present, or at least as present as she could be. It wasn’t that bad of a birthday. Not bad at all

…………………………..

 

Tony is a failure.

He doesn’t know this because of the numerous times his father screams it at him, or beats it into him. Whatever.

No, he knows it is true when he fails to protect his mother.  
Maria Stark isn’t exactly the prime example of a good mother, not even an ok mother really. He hears stories about The Time before Captain America, stories of how she was different, how Howard is different. Happier, in love, words he would never associate with the woman that drifts around their estate like a lonesome spirit. But the past is the past and if he’s left with a husk of a human being he’ll take what he can get.

He should have been there to protect her but instead he snuck out to hook up with some girl. They didn’t even get to do it because once he starts removing layers her probing questions about his many scars become too much and suddenly he can’t breathe and getting laid becomes the last thing on his mind. He’s out the door before he even thinks about it.

The first thing he notices is how quiet it is. Well almost quiet because as he stands and listens he can hear faint crying and he’s running. He turns a corner and there is his mother sitting on the ground softy crying, her hair is disheveled and there’s a broken glass a few feet away.

No.

He’s crouched by her side in an instant, gingerly lifting her head to examine the damage. His mother’s eyes are swimming and her bottom lip is stained a crimson red. Howard went on one of his rampages and she was the only target. And it was his entire fucking fault. He should have been there, to divert his dad’s attention, take the hits himself but instead he was out with some girl that didn’t matter, would never matter.

“I’m sorry, so sorry.” He whispers, angry at the way his voice cracks. God he was so weak, so pathetic. Sometimes he could see what Howard saw, and it was sickening.

He helps his mother to the nearest bathroom and cleans up the blood on her face, and with a warm cloth wipes away all traces of her tears. She smiles as he helps her into bed and curls up beside her. She threads her small fingers, her very delicate fingers, through his hair until she falls asleep but he doesn’t dare close his eyes. Howard was out there and he’d already hurt her once, and he would _not_ let that happen again.

 

He would not fail this time.

 

……………………………….

 

His fear of Captain America is not a gradual thing.

Its one of the rare times that Howard beats him that he _isn’t_ drunk. Tony much prefers it when he is. His coordination is shot to hell when he’s wasted. The fists connect less frequently. On that day his mother is out at a charity event and it’s just him and Howard.

It was the Fourth of July weekend and there was Captain America footage playing on nearly every channel and it only made sense to get drunk off of his ass. At least that’s the train of thought Tony thinks Howard is following.

Its one of the worst beatings he’s ever gotten. One minute he’s lying in bed drifting off to sleep the next his foot is being roughly grabbed and his head slams into the ground. White hot agony shoots through his head and he’s sure he blacks out for a couple seconds. A sharp slap brings him around and he realizes his father has dragged him across the floor and in front of the television. The coppery taste of blood fills his mouth and he turns his head to spit. Over the ringing in his ears he hears Howard screaming something at him but his thoughts are rattling around in his head and he can’t concentrate on the words. The kick to the gut does little to remedy the situation and he feels a rib give way under the assault.

“Get up! Get the _fuck_ up!” He tries to stand but his shaky legs just won’t take his weight. Howard roughly drags him off the ground and forcefully turns his head until he’s staring at Steve Rogers smiling and waving at an adoring crowd.

“Do you see that? You see that Anthony? That is what a man looks like. A real man. Something that you’ll never be.” 

This isn’t anything new. He’d be more surprised if the week ended without a verbal beat down. He’s learned to stay quiet and only reply _yes sir_ when appropriate.

“I knew Steve Rogers, and he would be disgusted by you. Captain America hates weakness and you’re **weak**. Maybe when we find him I can introduce you to him and he can beat some fucking manliness into you. He’d do it, I know he would.” Tony’s throat closes up, the threat burning like acid. He’s seen the footage, he’s heard the stories. Captain America is not a force to be reckoned with and he doesn’t want that aimed at him.

“I’m sorry.” He groans and it’s the wrong thing to say because suddenly Howard is livid. Tony doesn’t remember much of what happens next but when he wakes up in his room covered in bandages, a few fingers in splints and his mother’s warm hand encasing his, he knows one thing.

He never wants to meet Captain America.

Ever.

 

……………………..

 

When he hears of his parent’s death he feels relieved and then sick to his stomach because God _his mom_.  
She didn’t deserve this, she deserved so much better.  
He feels like he could have saved her. Taken her somewhere far far away like in a fairytale, where it could just be the two of them. Maybe she’d go back to the way she was during The Time before Captain America. Even as he thinks that he knows that it’s just wishful thinking. It wouldn’t have changed anything. She would never be happy. He couldn’t make anyone happy.

And Howard.

He should feel relieved, overjoyed, ecstatic even but all he feels is loss. It’s fucked up and he doesn’t understand it. He hated the man. Hated him for not being what he was supposed to be. Hated him for hurting his mother, for hurting him.

He doesn’t go to the funeral and he doesn’t cry. Instead he raids his father’s stash of alcohol and drinks until he’s numb inside and out. He smashes a bottle against the wall and holds a shard in a trembling hand. It would be so easy to end it all, a quick vertical slash and he’d bleed out in just minutes. He knows.  
But he doesn’t do it. If he goes to heaven, and he doubts it, he’d have to face his mother. The one person who might have loved him and he managed to let down. If he goes to hell, he’d have to spend eternity with his father and he’d rather delay that for as long as possible.

In the end he takes over the company and stows all his crap in a deep deep place that will never see the light of day. Whenever that dark creature tried to claw its way out to the surface he would choke it down with alcohol. The irony is hilarious but he doesn’t look too closely.

He was his father’s son.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last and final chapter guys and gals.  
> Fairly short.  
> Hope it offers some closure.

Anthony Edward Stark is a genius. This means he’s not an idiot even though he has been known for doing idiotic things. He knows that something is different. The team has been tiptoeing around him like he’s made of glass. Like he’ll shatter if they make the wrong move.  
He’s sick and tired of it.

The last straw happens on a movie night.

To be fair he has been acting like more of a dick lately. But that’s normal. It also doesn’t help that it’s the anniversary of his parents’ death but he’s sure that has nothing to do with it.

It’s a harmless question really.

“Hey Tony, everything ok?” Clint asks and he’s looking at him with that look. The same damn look that everyone has been giving him lately. He’s tired of that damn look.

“What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” At his irritated tone everyone turns to look at him but he doesn’t care, he continues on angrily, “What’s with this handling me with kid’s gloves crap?”

“It’s ok Tony.” Natasha speaks in a tone usually reserved for citizens caught in the line of fire, and again with that fucking look its-

And suddenly it all falls into place. He knows that look. He’s seen it in his teacher’s eyes, the maids and servants, the many physicians, his _mother_. And holy shit he can’t breathe can’t move because they know. They know.

He must have made a face because suddenly they’re all drawing closer and he takes an involuntary step back. Bruce raises his hands in a placating gesture and it snaps him out of it.

“I’m not going to break! I’m not damaged so stop treating me like I’m some little kid!” The others don’t react to his outburst like he expects them to and fuck he doesn’t know what to do with that. They should be mad, yell at him, hit him, just something, _anything_.

“I’m not w-weak…” He manages to choke out before his shoulders start to tremble with the strain of holding himself together.

In two strides Steve is across the room and wrapping him in a bone crushing embrace. He resists for a moment but he’s so damn tired and it’s ok if he just has this just for a minute, a minute he swears. Then Clint has an arm around his shoulder and Nat wraps her arms around his waist from behind and Bruce is gripping his hand like he might just slip away and maybe he might but than again maybe not. And if they hear the small gasps that he’s making or feel the uncontrollable shaking that he just can’t seem to stop they don’t mention it because they know that Tony Stark is _not_ weak.

He’s made of iron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comment if you'd like.


End file.
